By the Secrets We Share
by Ariyah
Summary: A collection of one-shots revolving around the Friends of Narnia. Chapter 2: Eustace has a few things to learn in the areas of kitchen-craft and music. No pairings. By Ariel of Narnia.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Most everything in here belongs to the brilliant C.S. Lewis. Millicent the Otter, though only mentioned, belongs to the excellent and generous WillowDryad (on condition that I didn't turn her into an epic ninja warrior *sigh* ;-P). Peter borrowed my trunk and I think Alberta stole my mum's scarf.

* * *

"Peter, they're here!"

Peter put the last of his shirts away and tucked his trunk into the closet. He'd only just come home from taking his entrance exams and he was tired. A relaxed pace was in order and he was in no rush to interrupt it. Especially for today's company.

"Peter, come – there you are," Mum said when he appeared at the top of the stairs.

"I'm coming, Mum," he said with a bit of a smile.

Aunt Alberta appeared next to Mum at the foot of the stairs. "Gracious, Peter, how you've grown! How did your exams go?" She reached out a hand and pinched his cheek.

_So it begins_, Peter sighed within himself. "Hullo, Aunt Alberta." Just a few feet behind his aunt was Susan, perfectly poised and serenely smiling. _If anything, she has improved since Narnia…_, he remarked to himself.

"As I was saying," Aunt Alberta said while she removed her hat and scarf, "he received an award for the second term in a row! Peter, I was just telling Helen about Eustace Clarence's hygiene award. I expect he shall win it every year of his attendance."

Peter made his smile widen. "You must be very proud of him," he offered.

"Oh, goodness, yes." She passed her things to Susan and prattled on. "He was always such a good boy, always doing me and Harold proud. I do wonder how he shall do next term, though. Something is different about that boy. In fact, just the other day…."

Peter's attention was captured by voices elsewhere. He could just see Uncle Harold sitting in the living room with a most bored expression on his face while Dad tried to interest him with small talk. And then there was something else. Something strange. _Like poor Millicent trying to sing when she'd caught a cold._ That is to say, it sounded both familiar and frighteningly alien. Only _this_ sound was both more frightening and more alien than the Otter maid's attempts at song.

He excused himself to investigate, though he hardly needed to have bothered for the three women were already headed for the kitchen. As he made his way down the hall, he determined that the sound wasn't quite Edmund's: it was much too raucous to originate from his demure brother. Nor was it Lucy's: everything about the voice was wrong. He turned the corner to the entryway and found that which he both suspected and least expected.

Cousin Eustace.

_Laughing_.

Not a nasty chortle that so often accompanied his mean "jokes". Not a haughty guffaw of poorly-attempted grown-up-ish-ness. Not even the dry, bitter chuckle of envy that Peter had recognized the last couple times they'd met.

No, this was an honest hee-haw of genuine pleasure. Peter restrained himself – barely – from simply staring at Eustace like a fish out of water.

"Peter!" Eustace greeted him with astounding warmth. "It's good to see you. How did your exams go?"

Peter forgot about curbing his reaction and gaped openly.

Eustace chuckled and stepped closer – only then did Peter realize that Edmund had had his hand clapped to their cousin's shoulder. "Well, come on, don't leave a chap hanging!"

Peter looked first at Edmund, then at Lucy. Both of them smiled. That is to say, Edmund smirked and Lucy beamed. Peter shut his mouth and shifted his gaze between the three of them. All three of them smiled as if they shared some great secret. Edmund and Lucy he could understand; Eustace was a piece of an entirely different puzzle. Then he suddenly turned on Edmund and Lucy again. "What did – _how_ did you…?"

"Oh, _they_ didn't do much." Eustace waved a dismissive hand, but Peter caught the smile in his eye.

Peter again scrutinized Eustace. _There's something about his look…._ He felt realization dawn and a wild feeling – something like hope – rising within.

Eustace grinned. "We have a lot of catching up to do, cousin."

* * *

**Thanks to:** Tenethia South for her prompt of "How would Peter react to seeing Eustace the first time after his change?" And to her, Meryah, gypsyvedius, and Jesus'girl4ever for pre-reading this. :-)

Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** The guitar is my friend's, the toaster is from _Kit Kittredge: An American Girl Mystery_, and the blackberry jam came from the store. Everything else belongs to C.S. Lewis. All I did was throw it all together.

**Prompt:** from Tenethia South, who told me to write a story involving Jill Pole, a toaster, and a guitar.

* * *

Jill Pole simply would not stop laughing.

"It's not funny!" Eustace protested.

"Oh, it is too!" Jill gasped past her giggles.

"Come off it, Pole."

Jill's mirth calmed somewhat, but Eustace still felt wounded. Just a tiny bit. Jill set her fingers over the strings of the guitar and strummed. She opened her mouth to sing, but only more chortles proceeded out. She ran through the chords again until she was finally able to sing, "There once was a little boy named Eustace Clarence Scrubb, who tried to make his toast –" She broke off giggling again.

"Well," Eustace said, hoping desperately that his ears weren't too red, "I bet I could do that." He nodded at her guitar.

Jill stopped – music, laughter, everything. She cocked her head to one side. "Oh, really?" She jumped up. "Then give it a try while _I_ toast the bread."

Eustace felt a little flutter of anxiety inside, but he raised his head and squared his shoulders. "I jolly well _shall_." He was quite sure that Jill snickered at him the moment he sat down on the chair she had vacated, but he couldn't quite tell as she was too occupied setting new slices of bread in place of his charred toast. He cleared his throat and tried to remember where Jill had set her fingers. He settled on a position and ran his thumb down the strings. Hard.

Jill's shoulders jerked up in a cringe, while Eustace slapped his hand over the strings of the guitar to stop the awful sound from further permeating his burning ears. "Uh, right," he muttered, trying to cover himself. His fingers shook while deciding on a new position. The strings dug into his fingertips while he strummed again, much less forcefully this time, and found to his surprise that it sounded… well, not _right_, but perhaps a little more musical?

Eustace looked up to see that Jill had somehow managed to toast two golden-brown slices and slather them with a generous layer of blackberry jam before turning to grin at him again. She set the plates on the table and then nudged one of his fingers one string down. "How about I teach you?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** I've never imagined Jill as being musical, but anyway. :-)

Please review!


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